


Checkmate

by AcidGreenFlames



Series: Prompts 2013 [6]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Fluff, M/M, Minor Violence, minor robotic gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-13 08:33:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1219642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AcidGreenFlames/pseuds/AcidGreenFlames
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Megatron slowly kills Sideswipe on the battle field, he gets to say good bye to his Decepticon lover; but Onslaught refuses to let him go without a fight. *Follows 'When The War Is Over'* *Very mild robot gore*</p>
            </blockquote>





	Checkmate

**Author's Note:**

> Whew! I’ve finally finished this! A prompt from Darkness_Rising, who gave me the prompt! Thanks again!  
> No beta for this fic, so beware grammar abuse o.O  
> Prompt: Swipe/Ons- Checkmate  
> Disclaimer: I own nothing! :o

Onslaught felt his fists clench tight at his side, his rage contained only by the loyalty program that kept him chained to Megatron. His insides burned, his spark blazed hot and his tanks churned. His processor raced as he fought to find a way out, to get Sideswipe out of here alive.

The crimson hellion coughed energon as Megatron threw him to the ground, his once graceful frame arching painfully as he bounced off the ground twice before landing in a heap. The Combaticon commander fought the flinch when the Decepticon’s around him laughed as Sideswipe fought to rise, barley ably to make it to his hands and knees, energon pouring from his mouth with every rattling cough.

Spark throbbing, Onslaught grimaced behind his battle mask, the urge to reach out, to draw Sideswipe to his strong frame rising. The need to protect him growing; the need to mutilate all who dare laugh at him, who dare to hurt him was growing.

Megatron laughed as he stalked the damaged Autobot, grasping Sideswipe by his scruff bar to haul him roughly to his pedes. Broken servos shot up to grasp at the thick grey wrist, the Autobot fighting back the cry of pain as Megatron held him tight.

The Combaticon felt his servos shake, felt his plating begin to rattle against his protoform in his rage. He couldn’t stop the snarl when Megatron buried his knee into Sideswipe’s abdomen; more blood energon burst from his mouth, splattering across the dry sand; the crimson mech coughing weakly as he sunk to the ground, no longer able to keep himself up right.

Onslaught’s whole body twitched towards the Autobot being beaten, his Autobot that was being beaten. The gestalt bond was lit up in panic and anger; Brawl by his commander’s side had grown to like the crimson hellion and feared he would not walk away this time. Vortex a near murderous rage as Sunstreaker went down with his brother’s agony. Swindle frozen in time as he watched the bright blue liquid pour from Sideswipe’s beaten frame, knowing that he needed a medic now before he was scrap.

Blast Off the quiet calm, watching carefully, and waiting for orders that would never come; could never come.

Onslaught could not save Sideswipe once again.

He couldn’t save him when Starscream shot him down like a dog in the street, nor could he save him from Megatron’s murderous rage; and Megatron was furious with the twins. The pair that always got in the way of his plans, the pair who could bring down his seekers and fliers. The few stupid enough to take on the combiner teams as though it were a game.

Megatron, however, was no game.

The mammoth warlord laughed as he stalked a tight circle around Sideswipe, laughing and babbling about how this was going to be his end, how Sideswipe was going to die here.

Sideswipe ignored him as he lay on his side, panting hard into the dirt, cobalt optics dim with agony and loss of energon. Little puffs of dust were kicked up with every gasp of air, energon leaking from the corner of torn lips, his nasal structure was broken and his vents all dented. It made drawing air into his starving engine nearly impossible. His ventilation systems were crackling and popping with each grasping breath, the armour flinching in pain.

Sideswipe was hurting, was feeling every moment of agony as his spark weakened and his frame started to fail him.

Around them Decepticon’s laughed. The Combaticon’s did not; they felt Vortex’s growing madness as he hovered over where Sunstreaker fell, Decepticons closing in on him. They felt Onslaught’s growing rage as he watched helplessly as Megatron beat his lover, likely to death.

His spark constricted at the thought of Sideswipe dead and gone. How dull the world would become, how grey and worthless. There was no light without Sideswipe, no reason to live, no reason to fight.  
It hurt him too see Sideswipe like this.

Megatron continued to babble, but neither Sideswipe nor Onslaught bothered to listen to what he said.  
Cobalt optics tipped up towards him, catching and holding deep gold. Denta coated in blood energon, Sideswipe managed a smile, optics flickering in pain and it caused Onslaught’s spark to burn to see that joyous smile tinged in pain.

His comm. line suddenly lit up, a soft buzz ping in his helm. He almost ignored it, almost didn’t activate it, and if he was honest with himself he didn’t know why he did.

When Sideswipe’s weak, groggy voice slipped through the comm. line, Onslaught felt his knees go weak and his spark hurt, so much. ::Hey Ons.::

The Combaticon commander didn’t respond, he didn’t trust himself as he canted his helm to indicate he was listening. ::It’s gonna be okay.::

His fists balled tighter, because it wasn’t going to be okay. Not ever again, not with Sideswipe dying before his very optics. His very reason to live beyond the war being stolen from him; his life would be so dull, lesser without Sideswipe. Empty.

::It’s not your fault. I knew what I was getting into when we started this. I know you can’t save me this time.::

The guilt nearly crippled him, nearly drove him to his knees. This was his fault. He should have sent the Autobot away, should have ignored Sideswipe’s lusty habits this time. He knew Megatron was too close. Knew the risk of being caught was too great.

The Decepticon’s would hail him a hero for bringing the Autobot twins down. He would live in agony, knowing he was the one who got his lover killed.

::I still want you to go to Grammra-four and Vector-Nine for me.:: Onslaught felt his spark wither; no, he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t lose his only source of joy. He would never step foot on Grammra-Four or Vector-Nine again.

::I always wanted to go, will you do it for me?::

Onslaught couldn’t answer, his spark churning, burning in agony. The loss of a future, the loss of Sideswipe’s future. The image of Sideswipe laughing and drinking sweet energon crumbling before his optics as the crimson Autobot faded.

::Please Ons?::

The commander nodded, unable to refuse his lover his last request, his voice weak over the comm. lines. ::I will.::

Sideswipe’s mouth pulled into a grisly grin, his bleeding face distorting the joy, the agony burning out his happiness.

::Be happy Onslaught. Just be happy.:: The Combaticon’s spark was torn in two, his frame going numb as Megatron kicked Sideswipe over to lay on his back; blue optics stayed with Onslaught. ::I’m so sorry. I really wanted to be with you when you went to Vector-Nine. And I wanted to see Vortex bother Sunny on Grammra-Four.::

The gestalt bond lit up with anger and fear, Vortex screaming wordless nonsense into the bond as he watch Sunstreaker succumb to his twins wounds, watched in horror as the Stunticons closed in on him.

He could attack them, and tell what to Megatron?

Besides, Sunstreaker would die once Megatron snuffed Sideswipe’s life out.

The twin bond was lit in disappointment and defiance. The twins didn’t want to die, they had too much to live for; but Sideswipe had taken too much damage, he was bleeding out on the dusty ground. Far from his medic, far from his Prime, who were no doubt searching the battle field for them.

_Sorry Sunny._ Sideswipe whispered across the bond, his sorrow and grief so clear across the bond.

Sunstreaker ignored the apology, sending a pulse of love to his twin. _Love you Swipe. Wish I was with you._

_Me too. But it’s okay, Ons is here. I’m not alone._

Sunstreaker’s weak laugh echoed through the bond. _Yeah, Tex is here too. I can see him hovering above Motormaster._

_I’m glad you’re not alone._ Sideswipe whispered, optics still focused on Onslaught, the smile dimming as fatigue began to win out.

_You too. Love you Swipe._

_Love you Sunny._

The bond went silent, the twins taking comfort in the weakening bond and the fact their lovers where so near.

Blue optics began to fade, crimson armour began to dull and turn grey, and all Onslaught could do was stand there and watch helplessly.

Onslaught felt his body shake, felt his fury burning through him, felt it drown out his fear and dismay. An unspeakable, maddening rage burned hot through him, it made his spark throb and flash brightly in its glass cage as it spread; the only thing keeping him still was the loyalty program.

Megatron suddenly stomped on the crimson mechs hips, the left side crushed under the massive Decepticon’s weight. Sideswipe’s optics whited out as pain spread fire through his sensor net; the Autobot screaming and frame arching away from the pain that would not stop.

The sound of Sideswipe in so much pain sent a piercing ache to his spark, sent a bolt of agony directly into his processor; his helm hurt, his frame hurt and his spark was a ball of fire.

Megatron ground his pede into Sideswipe’s body, the frontliner screamed again, servos weak and broken at his ankles to push him off, energon bubbling at his lips.

Pain suddenly spiked through Onslaught, striking directly at his core, a burning pain that dropped him to his knees. His own guttural cry broke from his lips as error messages filled his HUD. His helm burned as the images and sound around him distorted.

If felt like something was being charred from the inside out, his spark flaring hard, all its energy sent inward against himself, his helm pounding. It felt like his spark was at war with his processor and everything in between was nothing but casualties.

He was sure he was screaming, but his audios were roaring and he could hear nothing. The gestalt link echoed the same pain as he, and somewhere in the back of his processor he knew Vortex had crashed.  
His HUD eventually cleared, the pain gone as quickly as it appeared, leaving no trace it had been there, but he had no idea how long he had blacked out. It took a few moments before everything came back clear, and Onslaught found himself panting into the ground.

He groaned as he felt himself rise, slowly getting to his pedes as he twisted his helm left then right, popping the joints in his neck. He rolled his shoulders, noticing the horrid, eerie silence around them.  
He sought Sideswipe immediately, found the dull optics staring back at him, the color flickering to white and back again, not all there.

Megatron stared back at his commander, red optics glaring as the rest of his unit picked themselves up off the ground. “What is wrong with you?” the war lord spat.

Onslaught started back at him, and didn’t feel the urge to answer right away, didn’t feel the need to grovel and beg for forgiveness.

Odd, the loyalty program usual demanded that he answer his commander.

Megatron sneered. “Answer me Onslaught!”

He waited for the loyalty program to tighten around his mind, waited for it to bring him to his knees and force the words from his lips. It never came.

He was surprised when the sick feeling of being forced to yield never came.

He looked down at his servos, clenching and unclenching them in disbelief. It had been so long since he had not been forced to follow Megatron’s orders.

“Onslaught!”

Understanding took hold and the gestalt rang with the united front with their hatred of Megatron. Onslaught’s servos balled into tight fists, a cruel smile cut across his handsome face that was hidden behind his battle mask.

“I hate you.” The Combaticon commander said boldly, firmly, the gestalt bonds wide open, humming with one-ness.

Surprise flashed across Megatron’s face before anger took over. “What did you just say?”  
Combaticons. The Commander said firmly, every ounce of authority he pushed through the gestalt links.  
Standing orders. Kill anyone who touches the twins.

Vortex cackled over the gestalt bonds, his dark, tainted spark flashing happily over the bond. A predator stalking its prey.

He almost pitied the Stunticons.

The world suddenly no longer spun on a broken axle, he was no longer bound to Megatron, his rage over ruling and burning out, glitching the loyalty program.

His smile was cruel behind his battle mask, his stride confident as he walked towards the mech that was supposed to be his leader. Onslaught scoffed at the very idea; like someone as weak willed as Megatron could ever have his support.

The war lord had to rely on forced programing to bring him to heel. So much for that.

The grey face plates were pulled down into a furious frown as Onslaught stalked forward, his checked rage a tightly coiled spring, just begging to be released.

“Onslaught.” The grey Decepticon barked. “Get back in line!”  
The square helm canted, the gestalt bond lit up with glee as the Decepticons comm.’s suddenly lit up with a panicked, garbled message from Breakdown, yelling that Vortex had gone crazy and was killing Motormaster.

Megatron had no time to be shocked when Onslaught hit him with the sucker punch, knocking the grey mech to the ground.

From behind, others gasped, Starscream blinking in shock and surprise, Soundwave gently grabbing onto Rumble’s shoulder to draw him back from the fight; there was no need for them to become targets of a Combaticon that was finally unleashed.

Spinster moved to help their downed commander as Onslaught grabbed a hold of Megatron’s helm, bashing his face into his armoured knee, the satisfied crack only fuelling the fire that was Onslaught’s rage; Blast Off snatched the copter as he moved, his massive fist slamming through his chest on the third strike. Purple energon burst from the copters back and sprayed from his mouth, covering the shuttles shoulder as Blast Off gripped the rotor array and pulled it through his chest.

The body fell with a dull thump to the ground, the pool of energon spreading around his body as Blast Off snarled in defiance, daring anyone else to attempt to attack Onslaught.

Sideswipe’s vents heaved as he watched the remaining Combaticon’s form a loose circle around their commander, smiled when he felt Sunstreaker’s amusement over their own bond at whatever Vortex was doing.

His helm lulled as he looked back towards Onslaught, his vision blurring as he bled out, his frame one massive injury. He managed a crocked smile as he watched his lover beat Megatron into the ground, one knee planted into the dirt as he leaned into every hit, his entire body weight behind every attack.  
Sideswipe fought to keep his smile in place, his frame growing cold as it began to die. He muttered something on broken lips that he had only whispered a time or two into the Combaticon’s audio, and when no one else was around before he blacked out just as others began to join the fray.

()()()

Outwardly the Prime was calm and collected, on the inside, Optimus was terrified, a feeling Prowl no doubt shared.

Megatron had called the retreat, nothing that was unusual. Optimus called for a re-group, again nothing unusual and did a head count to ensure everyone was accounted for.

Two were missing.

Optimus looked around the war torn battle field, looking for bright crimson and deep gold. Nothing but grey met his optics.

His second in command came to stand by his side, worried blue optics scanning the battle field.  
“Where are they?” Prowl muttered, glancing around, hoping and dreading to find them. “They’re usually slow to come in, but this is getting ridiculous.”

Optimus nodded in agreement when Blades voice crackled over the commlines ::Boss?::

::Go ahead Blades.:: Optimus said carefully, taking note of the hesitation in the Protectibot’s voice.

::I…I’ve found them. Kinda. Sorta.::

::What do you mean Kinda sorta?:: Prowl demanded.

A GPS coordinates popped up on the Prime’s HUD, Blades hesitant voice over the comm. lines. ::You need to see this.::

()()()

Blades had landed by the time the Prime arrived to the location given, with his Autobot’s at his back; blasters raised and primed, ready for and expecting an attack.

The heliformer was staring at the tight knot of mech’s in a stunned stupor, not entirely sure what he was seeing was real.

Glancing up as the Prime and his soldiers slowed to a stop, his leader coming shoulder to shoulder with him, Blades could do nothing else but look confused and worried; Prowl released a near inaudible hiss of air.

Optimus’s optics narrowed on the scene before him, fists clenching in rage as his calmly addressed Blades. “What’s going on here?”

“No idea Prime.” Blades shrugged. “Their leader said he wanted to talk to you and you alone. They’ve done nothing since.”

Optimus scowled, watching the small group of Decepticon’s carefully, almost not believing what he was seeing.

The Combaticon’s stood together, all five clustered close, each covered helm to toe plate in energon, and gouges ripped into their armour; they were dented and dirty, Blast Off had exposed wires sparking from his shoulder. Swindle looked almost burnt with his damage.

Yet it was not the dark, damaged Combaticon’s that the Prime stared at. It was the damaged and dulling Autobot’s they held.

Sideswipe looked almost small as he lay unconscious and cradled in Onslaught’s arms; the larger then life personality dulled and suppressed by his damaged state and greying armour.

Onslaught, massive and immovable, armour smoking from battle, looked like the kind of thing from a night mare, was cradling Sideswipe to his chest like the crimson hellion was the most precious thing in the world to him.

Beside him, Vortex sat on the ground, his own lithe but energon covered frame was coiled around Sunstreaker like a snake; the slightly smaller frontliner somehow gathered in close to the interrogators chest as the Decepticon rocked back and forth, helm bowed as he muttered.

Beside his Prime, Prowl’s door wings twitched slightly higher, his sharp blue optics narrowing.

“Onslaught.” Optimus said calmly, addressing the Combaticon commander calmly.

The Deception did not back down. “Prime.” He nodded.

Blue optics flickered from one twin to the other, the tension around them grew as the Prime put his servos up in surrender. “Onslaught. Please don’t hurt them.”

He knew pleading was useless; but the comm. he sent to Bluestreak, telling him to take up a position on the highest ridge and target the Combaticon’s, was not.

Onslaught’s massive helm canted, yellow visor flickering as he regarded the Prime, armour bristling in annoyance. “If we wanted to hurt them Prime, I would have killed them already.”

It was the calm demeanour of the Combaticon’s tone that threw the Prime off, but nothing off set Optimus then Onslaught’s next words. “However, if they should die, I will not be held responsible for my actions.” He paused, visor flickering down to Vortex. “Nor his.”

Optimus held Onslaught’s optics, blue servos balling, servo itching to snatch his blaster from his sub space. “What?”

“If Sideswipe dies, I will end everything on this planet.” Onslaught said coldly as he took a step forward; Autobot gasped as they backed away, blasters raised as the Combaticon took another step forward.

“I suggest you fix him.” Onslaught said, voice soft, when he came toe to toe with the Prime, carefully holding Sideswipe out for his leader to take.

Optimus had never been so blindsided by anything in his existence, had never been so shocked as he carefully took Sideswipe’s beaten frame from the Combaticon.

The commanders voice was barley a whisper. “Please don’t let him die Prime.”

“You care about him?” Optimus tried to not allow the surprise filter into his tone too much.

“More then you will ever know.” Onslaught responded, voice still pitched low.

The Prime vented, holding Sideswipe close, staring at the yellow visor, his surprise dissipating as Onslaught continued. “Megatron is likely dead. The Decepticon’s will fall apart before Starscream is able to gain control.”

The gasps rippled from the Autobot’s, and Optimus had to ask “How?” as he held Sideswipe a little tighter, protecting him from the threat long passed.  
Onslaught’s helm canted, energon dripping from his broken knuckles. “I beat his face plates flat. I almost ripped out his cortex before Sideswipe passed out.” The massive helm glanced at the damaged frontliner. “Megatron was not worth risking his life.”

This…this could not be happening; Optimus felt his jaw drop open from behind his battle mask, glancing down at the frontliner once more.

“We want immunity. For us, and any Decepticon who chooses to flee the shit storm that will no doubt hit with Megatron’s death.”

Huh. Shit storm. A very Sideswipe word, Optimus noticed.

“What,” Prowl suddenly snapped, his angry blue optics focused on Vortex as he curled around Sunstreaker, lost in where ever his mind had sunk to. “Do you have to bargain with?”

“The space bridge. I know its current location and the access codes. I will also surrender all current Decepticon plots and access codes to the Nemesis. Those, however, are likely going to be changed before they are of any use. No one will think to change the space bridge codes yet.” The massive helm tipped towards the tactician, “And all weapons from our own base, most I’m sure you don’t want falling back into Decepticon servos.”

Again, all the Prime could do was look between Sideswipe’s damaged frame, and he was oh so hurt, and the massive Combaticon next to him. “Why?” he whispered only loud enough for himself, the commander and Prowl to hear.

Onslaught was silent for a moment, considering his answer, energon dripping in thick rivers from his damaged digits; the other Combaticon’s shifting nervously behind him. All but Vortex, who continued to mutter quietly into Sunstreaker’s damaged plates.

The visor refocused back in on the Prime. “He’s the only thing I have cared about in a very long time. I am not willing to have him hurt because of your war, and Megatron was a fool to believe that something as pathetic as a loyalty program would hold me back. Besides,” Onslaught’s tone turned hard, sharp. “He hit Swipe one too many times, and I was not going to let Megatron take him away from me.”

Prowl pushed passed his stunned Prime and the massive Combaticon; brushing past them with little notice, his optics focused on Vortex and Sunstreaker.

Optimus felt his optics widen as Onslaught turned partially to watch wearily, frame tense and ready to grab Prowl should Vortex lash out at him.

The Autobot’s second in command stopped before Vortex, the interrogator paying him no heed as he continued rocking, softly chanting ‘please wake up, please wake up, please wake.’

Prowl’s gaze was cold as he watched Vortex, dropping to one knee, arms held out to the interrogator. “Vortex. Give him to me.”

The red visor tilted up, the interrogators lips stilling behind his battle mask as he regarded Prowl. He growled low in his throat, drawing Sunstreaker’s frame closer to his own. “No.”

“Vortex.” Prowl tried again, his tone calm despite his cold optics. “Give him to me.”

“He’s mine.” Came the hissed reply, Vortex’s rotors flaring wide in an effort to look larger. “I fought for him, I burned out the program, he’s mine!”

Onslaught’s engine growled, the deep rattle echoing loudly in the silent field. “Vortex.” There was enough warning in the commanders tone that anyone with a sensible mind would have obeyed.

Vortex was never sensible.

The interrogator openly hissed at his commander, drawing Sunstreaker’s damaged frame closer to his chest and Onslaught feared that his hope for immunity would be crushed before he even had the chance to see it through.

Large fists clenched in checked rage; he was close, too close to be with Sideswipe to let Vortex screw it up now.

Prowl, as he always did, surprised him.

The Praxian’s door wings lowered suddenly, the white helm canting as he studied Vortex. “You care about him?”

The soft question took the Decepticon off guard and all Vortex could do was blink at the Autobot.

“Yeah.” Hsaid quietly, his grip tightening on his Autobot lover.

“Vortex.” Prowl wisely used the interrogators name, ensuring his full attention was on him. “Sunstreaker is very hurt and needs to be seen by a medic.”

The red visor sharpened, the light flaring as he was silent for Prowl to continue. “He needs a medic Vortex. You are doing him no favors right now. Give him to me, and I promise I will help him.”

Vortex growled, a vibrating noise that rumbled in the back of his throat as he decided whether or not he should attack Prowl. The tactician held firm and still, arms still open and waiting.

Vortex made a small chirr of distress, frame shifting as he glared at the Autobot.

“You did your job Vortex, and you did it well. You protected him when he needed you too, but now you have to let him go.”

“He’s mine.” Vortex muttered weakly, holding onto the Autobot frontliner.

Prowl nodded, and Onslaught wasn’t sure if the tactician was faking sympathy or not. “I know. I know Vortex, but you are not helping him right now.”

After a long moment of staring at each other, frames tense and twitching, Vortex slowly handed his golden lover to the over, gently shifting Sunstreaker’s damaged frame to his smaller commander.

Prowl released a hiss of air as relief took over him; the twins were alive.

Nodding his thanks to the interrogator, Prowl stood, awkwardly with the larger body type, turning away to carry Sunstreaker back to his own faction; Vortex was on his pedes before Prowl even had the chance to turn fully away, moving to follow the Autobot over the invisible line that divided the Autobot’s from the Combaticons.

Going so far as to cross that line right behind Prowl, Vortex snarled when Onslaught grasped his shoulder and haul him back; Vortex lashing out at his commander, jerking out of the touch.

The broken red visor followed Prowl as he weaved through the throng of Autobot’s, making his way to Ratchet, the Decepticon chirring angrily when he lost sight of Sunstreaker. The gestalt at his back shifting nervously, knowing how Vortex could be. How he could lose it easily enough, how he would attack anything he saw as a threat to the gold mech.

Large helm twisting to face the Prime, Onslaught’s gold visor flashing. “Do we have a deal Prime?”

Optimus hesitated for only a brief moment, blue optics glancing down at Sideswipe in his arms, the blood energon that leaked from the corner of his mouth. The image of Sideswipe being cradled so carefully in the large mech’s arms flashing in his mind.

There was so much they had to discuss, to figure out, and rules had to be laid out. Yet, for the time being, Optimus nodded. “Yes, we have a deal.”

He could work with immunity, especially if it meant having the combaticon’s loyalty, and thus the power of Bruticus.

Onslaught’s ex-venting of relief drew Optimus’s optics back up to the commander. The massive shoulders slowly sunk low, his servo coming up to press into his side, the dent that was there suddenly very obvious to the Prime.

“Excellent.” The gestalt leader muttered, his knees suddenly hit the ground as they gave out collapsing to the ground; a hacking cough bring up more energon, the bright liquid leaking out from the seams of his battle mask.

Optimus jerked awkwardly with Sideswipe in his arms, trying to slow the larger mech’s fall, only to fail at doing so.

Onslaught’s words were suddenly slower, lower and weaker. “Excellent. I believe that we are in need of medical assistance.”

His helm began to swim, and Onslaught suddenly felt ill from energon loss. It didn’t matter, he got Sideswipe back to his faction, kept him safe. He would survive, he had to; it didn’t matter if Onslaught survived or not, it only mattered if Sideswipe did.

He felt a servo slip under his arm to haul him upward, but Onslaught was already drifting, his knees weak as Ironhide slipped under his arm to prop him upright.  
The twins were safe, as was his gestalt. Weakly he limped along behind the Prime, ignoring how some Autobot’s kept their weapons primed and pointed at him.

They didn’t mean anything to him, his team was what was important, the twins were important.  
Suddenly, their dreams of visiting Grammra-four weren’t so dead.

()()()

The lights were dim when he came back on line, and Onslaught was relieved to find that the loyalty program was still gone, was still no longer a chain around his throat.

The gaudy orange overhead proof that the Prime had kept his word, there were no shackles that bound his wrists or ankles.

Heaving a sigh, the Combaticon stretched, popping joints and armour back into a comfortable position, the warm body that pressed into his own groaned and stretched itself.

Suddenly feeling exhausted, too many days with too little energon and the damage, catching up to him; it felt like far too much effort to tilt his helm to look at who lay beside him.

Relief flooded the commander when he spotted crimson armour, although dull and patched, gleamed in the dim light.

Sideswipe was pressed into his side, face crushed into the side of his chest, mouth slightly open as he gently vented; systems running smoothly, engine in a quiet idle.

Tension that Onslaught didn’t know he was holding suddenly loosened from around him, slipping from his frame like droplets of water.

Sideswipe was okay, whole again; all the damage done by Megatron repaired.  
Cracked lips twitching into a brief grin, Onslaught lay a servo over the dull black helm, thumb brushing over the audio horn.

The lean Autobot sighed, helm pressing into his chest where it was pillowed, light grey face plates smooshed into his chest armour; the small smile ghosting over his handsome face.

It lifted Onslaught’s dark spark, warmed him and gave him hope when nothing else would. Or could.

“I don’t know who the bigger moron is here. Sunstreaker, Vortex, him or you!” A hard voice barked above him, grating him as his helm began to throb.

Groaning, Onslaught tipped his helm up, dull gold optics squinting under the dim light of the med bay. Proud, dark grey chevron flashing above dark blue optics. Attempting a glare, Onslaught tried to send the medic running with a withering look.

Ratchet, thoroughly unimpressed, raised a metal brow at the former commander. “Don’t even Onslaught.”  
White arms crossed over his chest, face plates contorting to one of annoyance. “I would expect this from Vortex, Sunstreaker, and Sideswipe, but I thought you’d have some bloody common sense.”

Onslaught opened his mouth, attempting to defend himself, Ratchet cutting him off. “You have any idea how many military laws you’ve broken?!? You’ve any idea that you’ve put his life in danger with your dumb relationship?”

“It’s not dumb.” Onslaught rasped, vocal box spitting static as he tried to defend himself, the damage still not totally repaired.

The glare narrowed. “It is really dumb.” He snarled. “You’ve put their lives in danger, and for what? A quick frag? A little bit of fun?”

His engine suddenly growled, rattling through his chest plates, damaged armour bristling at the insinuation that Sideswipe meant nothing to him. He fragging burned out a loyalty program for him!

“And I swear Onslaught, I swear on all thirteen Primes, if you hurt him…if your psychotic chopper hurts Sunstreaker, I will end the pair of you.”

For a moment, Onslaught stalled, blinking up at the medic; did he…did he just threaten him? His engine revved again, deep and angry, fighting with his vocaliser to work.

From his chest, Sideswipe sighed, helm tilted upwards and one blue optic peeking open. “Ratch? Are you really sassing Onslaught?”

The medics lips quirked into a fond smile for a moment. “I’m barley getting started Sideswipe. The four of you are in for such a dressing down for this stupidity.”

The crimson mech groaned, face tilting back into Onslaught. “Not stupid.” He grumbled moodily. “I really lo…like him Ratch. That’s not stupid.”

Ratchet frowned at him and Onslaught felt his spark tighten. Had Sideswipe almost said what he thought he was going to say?

Onslaught really didn’t have the time to dwell on it as Sideswipe continued. “Ratchet, I realize you’ve been itching to tear into one of us since I woke up, but could it just…maybe wait?”

The medic, if at all possible, looked further unimpressed, dark optics narrowing.

After a moment, Ratchet heaved a sigh and nodded. “Very well.” Arms uncrossed as he gave the back of Sideswipe’s helm a very pointed look. “My rant at you won’t even hold a candle to the guilt trip that Prowl is going to lay on you.”

Sideswipe groaned, trying very hard to hide further into Onslaught.

Helm shaking, Ratchet sighed again. “Get some rest. Prowl will likely be here the next time you come out of recharge.”

Nodding against a teal chest plate, Sideswipe grunted an affirmative. “Thanks Ratch.”

Tracking the medic, Onslaught frowned when Ratchet gave Sideswipe an affectionate pat on the shoulder, not at all appreciating how familiar Ratchet was with the Lamborghini.

Just as suddenly, the bulky medic was gone, moving with purpose to the other side of the medbay to attend to another patient; leaving Onslaught alone with Sideswipe.

Settling back into the berth, an arm curling around the thinner mech to draw him closer, Onslaught heaved a sigh as an awkward silence grew between the two.

Swallowing, Onslaught forced himself to speak, he often was not good at this sort of thing. “Are you well?”

Sideswipe gave a dry chuckle, helm lifting so that exhausted blue optics met his gold. “I feel like I could recharge for another four millennia.” A weak grin tipped the corners of his mouth up. “But I’ll survive.”

“I am glad that you are okay.” A large servo came awkwardly to cup the frontliner’s helm, thumb brushing at the helm’s side. “How long have I been out?”

Sideswipe shrugged, his hesitant grin turning rueful. “In the neighbourhood of forty six hours.”

Onslaught heaved an annoyed sigh, the Autobot giving a small shrug. “Don’t worry too much, Vortex has been in medbay too, same with Brawl. Blast Off and Swindle have been behaving themselves.”

Then there was a pause from Sideswipe, his nose wrinkling for a brief moment before smoothing out to a neutral expression; Sideswipe’s tell that he was hiding something. Not necessarily lying, but neglecting to reveal the total truth.

“What is it?” There is an edge to Onslaught’s tone, one that Sideswipe has grown far to used to. One he often laughs at and goes as far as to mock, if Onslaught wasn’t in a homicidal mood.

The grin falls, and Sideswipe sinks back down to the teal armour that was serving as his pillow. “Megatron survived.” He mumbled into Onslaught’s chest, and the gestalt leader felt his spark grow cold. Not out of fear, but a deep seeded rage that he had failed.

He had, had his chance to end the war, to finally do all the things that Sideswipe wanted to do when they were free of this accursed conflict. He had been so close he had tasted it.

He had killed Megatron! He had check mated him! He. Had. WON!

His engine snarled, vocaliser spitting more static as he tried to growl along with it. Sideswipe, knowing he was safe from Onslaught’s rage, knowing that the large commander would not direct his wrath his way, quietly road out the revving of the heavier engine. Waiting to continue, waiting to give more bad news.

“Megatron has demanded your return.” Sideswipe’s voice was unusually small, that alone was enough to keep his rage at bay. “Threatened to tear apart city after city until we do so.”  
Squeezing the lean frame closer to his own, Onslaught allowed Sideswipe to continue. “Optimus refused. Claimed you had changed sides.” Sideswipe did not wish to use words like ‘abandon’ or ‘betray’. Onslaught had done, what he had done for Sideswipe, and the Autobot would not be the one to rub it in.

“The Decepticons attacked a city in Florida yesterday. The Protectorbots managed to send them running, but Prowl fears that this will just be the beginning. That there will be more attacks.” The crimson mech’s voice softened and petered off near the end of his explanation, skilled digits curling into the seams of his armour. “Why can’t we just have this one win?”

Tugging the unusually quiet mech closer, ensuring their frames were snug together, Onslaught heaved another exhausted sigh.

“Megatron can’t have you.” The muffled voice growing with Sidewipe’s own rage and increasing confidence.

“And when we face him once more, I will finish what I have started.” Onslaught agreed, servo petting between the frontliner’s shoulders.

He would kill Megatron, in the worse way possible if given the chance. After all, Megatron was in check now, it was only a matter of time before he was check mated, and the game would finally be over.  
After all no one was going to steal away Sideswipe’s future again.

“I’m glad you’re here.” The crimson twin muttered, his weary frame suddenly relaxing and softening against his own; and Onslaught could hear his lovers systems winding down, back into recharge.

“As am I.” He whispered back.

The next time he would meet Megatron on the battle field, he was going to rip him to shreds with his bare servso. He would tear him limb from limb and send his parts back to Soundwave in tiny boxes.

A last burst of energy raced through Sideswipe, and he suddenly pushing himself up, carefully crawling up his damaged lovers frame, being oh so careful of the wires and leads that monitored his internal stats.

Small, black servos pressed into Onslaught’s shoulders and suddenly grey lips were pressed to his own in a soft kiss, Sideswipe’s exhaustion felt in the way his frame shook and the way his EM rolled weakly over teal plates.

Large black servos came up instantly to steady his frontliner, Onslaught pressing back into the kiss, knowing just how close he came to losing this; losing Sideswipe.

Megatron took his life once when he ordered him stuffed into a tiny black box, and again when he chained them with a loyalty program; but he would not do so again. Once the warlord was dead, Onslaught would indeed take Sideswipe and his twin to Grammra-Four without the threat of being murdered by their factions.

Or at least by his.  
Come hell or high water, Onslaught would see the twins, and his foolish team through the rest of the war. Grinning into the deepening kiss, Onslaught have a dark chuckle.

After all, Prime now had the power of Bruticus on his side.


End file.
